


On The Back Of His Husband

by RichardGraysonPercyJackson



Series: The Forbidden Love of Nightwing and Deathstroke [28]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 07:02:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18425325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichardGraysonPercyJackson/pseuds/RichardGraysonPercyJackson
Summary: When you're a tired vigilante, any place to nap is a good place to nap.Even if that place is on the back of your universally known mercenary husband who is seconds away from shooting a man through the head.





	On The Back Of His Husband

Slade usually tried to carry out contracts on the same nights Dick was patrolling. That way they’d both have off the same nights. It didn’t always work of course, but Dick - despite it never being his fault when it didn’t work out - would always find a way to make up for it.

Like now, for example.

Deathstroke was lying on his stomach on the rooftop opposite his target, sniper rifle trained as he looked through the crosshairs, making sure the bullet would go cleanly through the child trafficker’s head.

His katanas that usually rested on his back were lying next to him as Nightwing lay sprawled over his back, arms folded over Deathstroke’s shoulder blades, head resting on Deathstroke’s shoulder.

“If you fell asleep on my back,” Deathstroke murmured. “I am never going to let you live that down.”

Nightwing didn’t reply and Deathstroke barely resisted the urge to snort because of  _ course  _ Nightwing fell asleep on the back of his mercenary husband while the man was getting ready to shoot someone in the head.

“Kid, I am literally about to kill someone,” Deathstroke muttered. “You’re about to have a very rude awakening.”

But when it came time to pull the trigger, Deathstroke couldn’t do it and wake Nightwing up, so with a tired sigh he very carefully set the rifle on the ground next to him, crossing his arms on the roof and resting his forehead on them, using them like a pillow.

Logically, he knew he was going to have to move eventually because there was no way Nightwing was going to wake up on his own, but for the moment Deathstroke was content to lay where he was.

He kept an eye on the time and when it shifted to around three AM, he decided it was time to go home. Carefully, he shifted up, reaching one hand back to gently shake Nightwing.

“Time to wake up, kiddo,” he said softly.

“Hm?” Nightwing mumbled, sliding off of his back to sit on the rooftop as he tried to wake up. Deathstroke took that as his chance, grabbing his rifle, aiming, and firing.

His husband was glaring at him when he turned around. “Really?” the acrobat asked.

Deathstroke chuckled as he got to his feet and offered his hand to Nightwing who took it and used it as leverage to get to his feet, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting for Deathstroke to pack up his gun and return his katanas to their place on his back.

“Did you fall asleep?” he asked as the two of them made their way towards the other side of the roof, down the fire escape to where Deathstroke’s motorcycle was waiting.

“Maybe,” Nightwing muttered, slinging his leg over the motorcycle behind Deathstroke and wrapping his arms around the mercenary’s waist. “I’m tired.”

“Don’t fall asleep yet,” Deathstroke told him, passing Nightwing his helmet with the built in com to allow the two of them to keep talking easily. “I’d rather not scrape your corpse off the pavement.”

Nightwing snorted. “Lovely visual. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

 

………

 

They were both exhausted by the time they got back to the apartment and as soon as they’d stripped out of their suits, they crawled right in bed.

Slade, of course, would stay on his phone for an hour but Dick was usually out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

At least, that was what Slade was expecting.

Which caused some surprised on his part when he felt shifting a few seconds before Dick crawled right on top of him to lay on Slade’s stomach, head resting on Slade’s chest.

“Comfortable?” Slade muttered, slight sarcasm lacing his tone as he placed his free hand on Dick’s back, idly stroking a thumb over the scarred skin as he turned back to his phone.

“It’s winter,” Dick told him. “And cold. And you’re a walking heater.”

Slade chuckled. “A perk of the Mirakuru experiments,” he said.

“Yeah,” Dick agreed with a sigh. “Good night.”

“Good night, my pretty bird.”


End file.
